


A Kingdom in Crisis: The End of Robert's Rebellion and the Third Great Council

by Pseud



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: I will add characters as they appear - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseud/pseuds/Pseud
Summary: What if Robert's Rebellion had ended differently? What if Robert Baratheon died of his wounds after the Trident? How would this affect what comes later?A what-if at the end of Robert's Rebellion.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Ned I

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic, so I'm not quite sure what to do. I just had an idea, and wanted to write it. Thanks for reading!

The day was cold when Lord Jon Arryn rode into King’s Landing. Another man would have taken that as an omen, but Eddard Stark did not believe in omens. Nevertheless, he greatly feared what Jon would tell him.

Has Robert died? Ned’s worries stormed around his mind, clouding his countenance. The wound that Rhaegar Targaryen had dealt Robert had been a fearsome thing, but Robert was a fearsome man. He was six and a half feet tall, and muscled like a giant from the stories of old. Robert Baratheon's warhammer was a brick of steel that Ned struggled to lift with both hands, and Robert only ever needed one. He cannot be dead. He is too strong to die. And yet, the sight of the moon and falcon banners and the man under them brought Ned’s worries to the fore.

Lord Jon Arryn had been his foster father for eight years, and his brother for the last two. For the first time, Ned began to wonder what Winterfell would be like when he returned. He would be the Lord of Winterfell, not his father and not Brandon. His heart hurt when he thought of their deaths. His wife would be the Lady of Winterfell, but how would she get along with Benjen? With Lyanna? Would Catelyn have a child? Would Lyanna have a child? Robert had sworn to kill Prince Rhaegar-

Ned’s thoughts were halted by Jon’s hand on his shoulder. He was glad. There were enough worries in the present. While Jon was ordinarily a calming presence, something about him gave Ned pause. It took him a minute to understand. Something is in his eyes, Ned thought. Something horrible. 

Whatever it was, Jon did not wish to speak of it where others could hear. They rode towards the Red Keep, not saying anything to each other. Whatever this thing was, it weighed on Jon. He was hunched lower than usual, and his eyes were red with dark circles. Ned could feel the news twisting around him like some oily snake, the worries mounting with every clop of his horse’s hooves.  
Faces looked down on them from balconies, long and haggard and angry. Ned felt a twist of rage in his chest. Robert will deal with the Lannisters for this, Ned thought, before his fears grabbed him again. Old gods, gods of the wind and wood, please let Robert live. Ned prayed. He could not lose another friend, not after his father and his brother and his sister – no, Lyanna lived. He would know if she was dead. He would know if Robert was dead.

Thoughts of his sister swirled in his mind as he handed his horse to the groom in the Red Keep. Lyanna loved horses, Ned remembered. She would ride over the hills whenever she could. She even tried to follow me to the Eyrie once. The memory cheered him, until he remembered where she was now. I will return her to Winterfell, and then Benjen and I will be there at her wedding to Robert-

What if Robert is dead? The thought struck at Ned’s heart. Jon would have told me if Robert was dead, Ned thought, but this was followed by a deeper fear; What if that is what he means to tell me? The door slammed shut with finality. Ned knew what Jon Arryn would say before it was said.

“Robert died of his wounds last night.” Despite knowing it was coming, the words still felt like a red-hot dagger in Ned’s heart. Tears pricked at his eyes. I have lost so much, old gods. Could you not even have given me this? But the look on Jon’s face said he wished to speak of the war, and so Ned set his grief aside.

“We must relieve Storm’s End so we can crown Stannis.” Ned’s words sounded wrong, even to him. We chanted Robert’s name that night on the Trident, and it was King Robert Baratheon who slew Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Now Robert’s brother held the title of King, a brother Ned had never met.

“It will not be as easy as you suggest.” Jon’s tone was cold, and his words colder. “Robert was acclaimed king, and with the deaths of Rhaegar and Aerys, many believe that our grievances have been addressed. With the Sack now laying with us-”

Ned spat on the table. “We did not sack King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister did. We will execute him, his son, and his dogs, and then the people will cheer for Stannis.” The look he received from Jon Arryn put him in mind of the lessons where he had forgotten some crucial piece of information. “What reservations do you have against that?”

Jon slowly drew his breath in, and let it slowly out. “Ned, in order for him to be king, Stannis must be acclaimed by lords who have never seen him, and he must be able to convince our enemies to kneel to him. If Viserys offers a pardon to Tywin and his men in exchange for our heads-”

“Doran Martell will desert him.” These words came easily. Ned could see it clearly: Mace Tyrell and Tywin Lannister would back this boy-king, and then they would smash them like Aegon smashed the Two Kings on the Field of Fire. They even come from the same kingdoms. But Jon was not impressed.

“Doran Martell is a spent force. He lost ten thousand men on the Trident. Besides, Viserys was known to be close to Rhaenys. He could very well convince Prince Doran to scrape up what soldiers he could, and that they would kill Tywin later.” Jon spoke calmly, but there was a current of anger under there, as if he was explaining that the sun rose in the east to a child.

Ned’s anger finally got the best of him. “We have an army too, have you forgotten? We could kill Tywin Lannister here, and march on Storm’s End to save Stannis! Mace Tyrell lost at least fifteen thousand men on the Trident, and Tywin has but twelve thousand here! We have thirty thousand men outside these walls!”

“Which do you plan to do, kill Lord Tywin, or save King Stannis? We only have one army.” Jon’s words stung Ned to silence. They could not do both. They could fight Tywin here, and Stannis would starve, or they could march on Storm’s End, and Tywin would take them in the rear as Mace Tyrell prepared for the assault. Jon sighed. “Ned, it is simple. We cannot allow Lord Tywin to go to the Targaryens.”

“We cannot afford him with us.” There had been a disturbance yesterday. Some of the King’s Landing men had attacked Tywin’s men, and they had been slaughtered in the street. When there was a more forceful riot that night, Ser Amory Lorch had led Lannister men to smash the rioters. The city was quiet now, but only because of fear. If Lord Tywin looks to escape unpunished-

“I understand your concerns, Ned.” A sharp look from him brought annoyance to Jon’s face. “Truly, I do. You worry that Stannis’ reign will be delegitimized by the murder of Elia and her children. You worry that the Prince of Dorne will merely be recovering his strength before he strikes again later. You do not wish to kill Viserys, and yet you worry that Stannis will never sit his throne securely while Viserys breathes free.” All that and my sister. Where is she? Is she safe? Can I save her? Ned shoved his dark thoughts away. He could fight them later. He had another fight at the present. “If you understand my concerns, why are you for pardoning Tywin Lannister?”

“Because I worry about what is happening now. If Viserys gets Tywin’s aid, Ser Kevan can gather another army in the West and launch them into the Riverlands, bringing more steel and fire to that war-torn land. We would be unable to save Stannis, and Lord Tywin and Lord Tyrell would carve up our armies and our lands. The people would suffer years more of war and winter, and at the end, there would be a contentious regency for a boy king who might be his father come again. I want Stannis to win. I want him to bring peace and stability to the realm. And we need Lord Tywin for that.” Jon Arryn had stood and was gesturing wildly, extremely strange behavior for him. He is bursting with conviction, and utterly desperate. He wants me to stand with him. He needs me to stand with him.

“What is your plan?” The words tasted foul in his mouth. Father, forgive me. I have cast aside my honor for the lives of others. I pray you understand. Jon slumped into his chair, relieved beyond words.

“We will hold a Great Council here, in King’s Landing. With Lord Tywin, we will have the votes we need. Stannis will be acclaimed king in the Red Keep, and crowned by the High Septon. If we offer Mace Tyrell reasonable terms, we can bring him to our side, and with Doran Martell alone and friendless, we can force him to see reason.” It was a good plan, but a coil of rage still sat in Ned’s stomach. Tywin Lannister will escape justice. He will have committed heinous crimes, and we will reward him for them.

“What of Viserys and Rhaella? I will suffer no more murders.” Ned’s voice carried all the determination he had lacked earlier. He had compromised too much to surrender on this. He had abandoned Princess Elia and her children, he would not abandon Rhaella and hers. Even the one yet unborn.

Jon took his words calmly, as if he had already won. He has, Ned thought. “Viserys can be made into a maester, or sent to the Faith. But he cannot sire children. Rhaella can be sent to the great motherhouse in Gulltown, where I can ensure her safety. If her child is a girl, she can be betrothed to Stannis’ eldest son. If a boy, he can follow his brother.” Ned thought on this, then responded. “Viserys will take the black. Then I will protect him from Lord Tywin.” And from the lords who would seek to crown him.

Nothing else needed to be said. They knew each other too well. Ned would take most of the army to lift the siege at Storm’s End, and Jon would send out letters to the lords of the realm calling the Great Council at King’s Landing. The third in the history of Westeros. Ned reflected on the other two as he walked. The first picked Viserys of House Targaryen, First of his name, over Laenor Velaryon, son of Princess Rhaenys, the Queen who never was. She was part Baratheon as well, Ned thought with disquiet.

The second chose Aegon of House Targaryen, Fifth of his name, over Daeron the Drunken’s daughter Vaella, and Aerion Brightflame’s son Maegor. Both of them were children. This calmed his thoughts. In both councils, they picked a man grown over a boy. Stannis is a man grown, and he has held a mighty castle against a great army. Viserys is a boy, the blood and seed of Aerys the Mad. Stannis will win. I will make it so. Ned climbed on his horse, and began to ride to the rebel army, to take them to Storm’s End. 

That night, he dreamt of the night before the Trident. Robert smashed Rhaegar, recovered from his wounds, and the whole realm knelt to him. Robert married Lyanna, and they were happy. Their children were all black-haired and blue-eyed, and they were all valiant princes and beautiful princesses. The summers of Robert’s reign were long and bountiful, and the winters were short and mild.

Ned awoke with tears on his cheeks.


	2. Rhaella I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Targaryens react to Jon Arryn's raven about the Great Council.

Rhaella I

The letter was heavy in her hands. She was alone in the solar, but for Maester Kendrick and Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms of the Red Keep, and a man utterly loyal to House Targaryen. Thank the Seven that now he listens to my son instead of my brother, she thought bitterly. In any other house, Aerys would be a rare horror, but House Targaryen seemed to turn one out every few generations. Maegor the Cruel, Aemond the Kinslayer, Aegon the Unworthy, Bloodraven and Bittersteel, Aerion Brightflame, and now Aerys the Mad. Her husband had joined a roll of monsters, and she sent a short prayer thanking the Seven for his death.

Ser Willem finally addressed the question they had come here to discuss. “Your Grace, this letter is clearly a trap. Viserys is the last Targaryen, and the rebels will stop at nothing to see him dead.” That was one of her fears as well, but Maester Kendrick chose that moment to give voice to another of her thoughts.

“When Bloodraven executed Aenys Blackfyre at the second Great Council, he was sent to the Wall for his crimes. You can say many things about the rebels, but they have not been known to attack men under flags of truce. If Viserys does not go, he will lose what support he has, and Tywin Lannister will kill us all.” These words stabbed a dagger into Rhaella’s heart, and tears sprung to her eyes as Rhaella remembered her last meeting with Elia.

“Elia, it is not safe to stay here! I can try to talk to him, but you must go with us!” Rhaella pleaded, but Elia was not moved. “Rhaella, I will not be allowed to leave without his permission. You know this.” Rhaella did, but after the Trident, she was scared.

“Please stay safe.” Rhaella begged her. Elia smiled, and stroked her hair. “Of course I will be safe. My brothers are coming, and Jaime will not let my children come to harm.” The last words were what set her over the edge. Tears ran down her face, and her sobs shook her whole body. Ser Willem brought her a chair so she would not fall.

Damn you, Jaime Lannister. You could not even have saved the children? She knew that she was being unfair to him, that he was just as much a hostage as Elia was, that he was only one man, but she could not help but hate him for his failure. Elia would have died happily if her children were safe, and you denied her that.

It took a few minutes for her tears to stop. I have cried over Elia and the children many times, and I will cry over them many more. But Viserys needs me right now. Viserys needed all the help he could get. Five Lords Paramount had risen against the Targaryens. Storm’s End, The Eyrie, Riverrun, Winterfell, and Casterly Rock. Casterly Rock most of all. Then she saw the purple eyes peeking around the corner.

“Viserys, if you wish to be included in the meeting, you must ask.” Rhaella’s words scolded him, but there was no heart in it. He is my only son now. Viserys’s face pinched up, and he scowled.

“I’m the king now. I don’t have to ask for anything.” Viserys was only a petulant child, but his behavior reminded her so much of Aerys that she shuddered. Oh gods, please, it was only eight years. Rhaella attempted to find her voice, but Maester Kendrick beat her to it. “You do not have to ask. Nevertheless, it helps you get what you want.”

Viserys stomped his feet, and screamed. “I don’t need help getting what I want! I’m the king! Everyone has to listen to me!” There were tears in the corners of his eyes. Ser Willem chose this moment to interject. “His Grace has the right of it. We are loyal men. Even if the realm is filled with traitors, we must remain true.” Maester Kendrick’s voice rose in anger. “I will not be called a traitor for offering counsel!”

“And you should not.” Rhaella stood, with all six eyes in the room looking at her. “Viserys, we are loyal. But if you want to rule seven kingdoms instead of two, you must learn to listen, and you must learn to compromise.” Viserys blushed, chastened by her words. I can still do that much, for now. Ser Willem, seeing his arguments shatter like Daemon Blackfyre’s men under the Dornish spears, rallied his words like Bittersteel preparing for the mad charge at Weeping Ridge.

“Should His Grace compromise with the murderers of Princess Elia? Should he pardon the Kingslayer? Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn, Ned Stark … should we reward them for rebelling against the rightful king?” His words were all fair and just, and yet felt wrong. Maester Kendrick, emboldened by her support, charged Ser Willem again.

“Should Lord Stark kneel to the son of the man who murdered his brother and his father? Should Lord Arryn acclaim the man who called for his wards heads? Should Lord Baratheon submit to the brother of the man who slew his brother after kidnapping his brother’s betrothed? Your argument only stands when the king is in the right, ser.” Ser Willem’s face contorted in rage, but Viserys yelled first.

“My father was the king! If they were traitors-” Rhaella cut him off before he could rage further. “If. There was no trial.” Two years later, she still heard their screams, smelled their burning flesh. Viserys had not quite calmed down, but was no longer screaming. Thank the Mother for small mercies.

“I thought that was the trial.” The confusion in his voice spoke volumes. Ser Willem looked away, Maester Kendrick put his head in his hands, and Rhaella wept anew. We are dead and rotting, Maester Kendrick and Ser Willem and Viserys and the babe inside me. Not for the last time, she prayed for another son. Not like me. Never like me.

Maester Kendrick broke the silence. “We must do what we can to help prepare Viserys. We cannot stop now. There is too much danger.” Rhaella heard the words, and drew herself up. Until Viserys is a man, Dragonstone is mine. I must behave like it. She had wept for those close to her. Now she had to act.

“Ser Willem, go to the docks and prepare the fleet. My son will not limp into his city a beggar.” Ser Willem nodded, and left. “Maester Kendrick, you will tutor the king in governance on the way to the city.” She had gotten so used to being listened to that it was a shock when he balked her. “My queen, I must remain here.” 

“Do as my mother commands!” Viserys snapped at Maester Kendrick again, but this time Rhaella stood with her son. “Maester, Viserys will need your counsel.” Despite two royals standing against him, the master still would not budge. If my brother had a man like him, would he have turned out better? No, that was folly. Aerys had dozens of men like Maester Kendrick. He burned them all.

“Your grace, your mother is with child. I would be remiss in my duties if I went with you, and left your mother without aid here.” Viserys was shocked, and then beamed. “I want see the babe as soon as I can!” Maester Kendrick chuckled, but Rhaella was filled with worry. “Maester, I can get aid from elsewhere. Viserys cannot. You will go with him, and I will send to Driftmark for their maester.” Rhaella thought this a sensible plan, but Viserys disagreed.

“I don’t know the maester from Driftmark. I know Maester Kendrick. He will remain here, and protect my brother or sister.” Brother. The word resonated in ZRhaella’s head with such finality that she could not imagine otherwise.

“I will get Viserys the books that I would use to teach him. One on Jaeherys the Conciliator to teach him how to fix a realm after a civil war, one on Daeron the Good to teach him how to make friends from enemies, and one on Aegon the Unlikely to teach him how to be acclaimed by a Great Council.” Maester Kendrick bowed to them, and left Rhaella with her son. The king.

“You will be surrounded by enemies in your own home.” Rhaella spoke as soon as Maester Kendrick was gone. If he is to go, he must understand. “The Lannisters have their army outside the walls and in the Red Keep. Lord Stark has taken the main rebel army to lift the siege of Storm’s End. Lord Tully is still recovering from the wound he took at the Trident, and so Lord Arryn rules. Ser Barristan bent the knee to Robert after the Trident, and the Kingslayer cannot be trusted for obvious reasons. Prince Doran will come as fast as he can, and the Hightowers are gathering another army, but if you leave now, you will be alone with enemies all around you.” I fear for you, my son. Oh seven, why could I not protect him?

Viserys listened to her words, and responded. “Lord Tywin killed Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon. I have to kill him.” Viserys sounded older than his eight years, and once again, Rhaella prayed for his safety. I have lost so many children already. Please, let me keep this one. Viserys smiled. “Besides, you’ll come as soon as the babe lets you.” The words were a statement, but he said it like a question.

Rhaella held Viserys close to her. “As soon as I can.” She promised. I will protect you as long as there is breath in my body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like the chapter!


	3. Viserys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys arrives in King's Landing, and meets Prince Doran Martell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This isn't dead, I just had a rough semester. Anyways, it's good to be back! I also figured out how to reply to comments when I was gone, so I'll go do that right after this! Thanks for reading, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!

The fleet cut across the water as the city rose from the waves. _I am coming home._ Viserys could not contain his smile. After everything, he had a chance to right what was wrong. To smash the rebels as they ought to have been smashed on the Trident. _To finish what my brother began._

The deck boy stood a few paces back. Viserys had talked with him after they left, and felt oddly fond of him. _When I am king, I will give him his own ship,_ Viserys decided. He deserved it for what he had taught his king.

Viserys had learned that his ships had names. The one on the far left was _Queen Betha_ , and the one next to her was _Sea Snake_. The deck boy had forgotten the name of the next few ships, but he had remembered that the small black one on Viserys’s right had been built on Dragonstone and named _Prince Rhaegar’s Song_. _My brother is with us, even in death._

But his favorite was the great ship he stood upon. Three hundred oars, _King Aerys’s Glory_ was the greatest ship in the Targaryen fleet, the deck boy had boasted. Viserys had told him that when he was king, he would build one even bigger. The sailors laughed. One had said that it would be good to have the king focus on the fleet again. The sparring between the Prince and King had bled resources, and the Velaryon fleet was nearly as large as the royal fleet before it was almost destroyed in the Battle of Gulltown.

_Another debt I mean to have the rebels repay,_ Viserys seethed. The deck boy had told him that while Lord Velaryon’s cousin Ser Jaehaerys attempted to repair the fleet, Lord Lucerys had taken to the field at the Battle of the Bells, where he had been slain. The Velaryons had been able to send five ships to Viserys’s fleet: _Oakenfist, King Aegon, Seahorse, Swift Wind,_ and the wonderfully named _Robert’s Bane_.

The ship began to slow, and sailors flung ropes over to the men on the docks. Ser Willem went across the deck first, and announced his presence to the wharves. “All hail King Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm!” There were few people here, and all was silent for a few heartbeats. A man stuck his head out a window and gave a weak “All hail!” before ducking away, as if ashamed to be seen.

Viserys was about to rage about this indignity when a worse one occurred. Some merchant ship cut off _Prince Rhaegar’s Song_ as it attempted to dock, forcing the ship to circle around and find another dock. _This humiliation is unacceptable._ Ser Willem was sending a black look towards the merchants. Viserys marched to confront them, his anger swelling with every step. His father had a saying about his anger that Viserys did not understand until now. _They woke the Dragon._

Ser Willem ordered the guards to fall in behind them as Viserys stormed towards the merchants. _How dare they?!_ _I am the blood of the Dragon!_ The ship lowered its plank as Viserys neared. “You cut off my ship!” Viserys’s anger was burning in his chest.

“I think I am more important than a ship, goodbrother.” Prince Doran Martell stepped out of the ship, and all of Viserys’s anger dissapeared. Viserys could not control his grin. _The first of my loyal lords!_ Prince Doran gave a slight smile, and came down the plank to kneel to Viserys. “Would the king grant me the boon of a conversation? I would like to explain how the Dornish lords will be moving to here for the council.” Viserys could barely control his glee. “Yes!”

His father flashed through his mind then, reminding him of what he had forgotten. _The dragon does not scamper before lesser lords, and certainly not the Dornish._ He had sometimes left off the last part, but only when Elia was away. When he asked mother about this, she had told him that some people in the kingdoms did not like the Dornish, and that father had to pretend he was one of them, or people would suspect he favored them the way Daeron the Good had favored his wife’s family. _They still betrayed father. Let the traitors think what they want._

Prince Doran’s cabin was smaller than Viserys had expected. _Father said they were poorer than many of the other lords._ Ser Willem stopped on the plank but Viserys heard him all the same. “A smaller ship than I expected for the Prince of Dorne.” Viserys hovered outside the door, old habits falling smoothly into place.

“I needed to be here quickly, and the captain owed my mother a favor.” Prince Doran’s tone ended the conversation, and the two of them stepped into the room. Viserys had attempted to get into a normal position, but it was still obvious he had been spying. A twinge of fear ran up his spine. _No, father can’t punish me for this. He’s dead. I’m the King. Nobody can punish me anymore._

_Except the Kingslayer._ Fear and anger fought in his chest, while an emotion he could not name ran through his fingers. _He slew my father, the king he was sworn to protect. The rebels will send him to kill me._ Prince Doran and Ser Willem were standing in front of their seats. Viserys looked at them blankly.

Prince Doran broke the silence. “Your grace, the king decides when council meetings start.” Viserys’ face grew red, and he waved at them to sit. He should have known this. He had seen his father start three meetings of the Small Council. _And yet, I forgot that the King starts the meetings. They must think me a fool._

Prince Doran reached into a chest, and pulled out a map of the southern half of the Seven Kingdoms. It had parts of the Riverlands, Westerlands, and Crownlands, and all of the Stormlands and the Reach, but the most detailed part of the map was Dorne. Rivers great and small crisscrossed the map, with all the ones in Dorne pointing to the Greenblood. The map held castles he knew, and many he had never heard of. Kingsgrave, Godsgrace, Salt Shore…

“There is a dragon there!” Viserys’s surprise bled through his words, but he could not find it in himself to care. _The world is so much wider than I had imagined! When I am king, I will see every castle on this map!_ Prince Doran smiled.

“That is the arms of House Toland. Lady Nymella sent three hundred of the ten thousand Dornish spears that marched with your brother to the Trident.” Viserys could almost see them. Three hundred Dornishmen, each upon a sand steed, covered in glittering plate, with green and gold ribbons fluttering from their helmets and lances. Three hundred, all loyally following a brave prince in red and black armor.

“The King can learn more about his realm when he has won it.” Ser Willem’s words sent Viserys’s face burning red. _These are the games of a boy. I am a man now, and a King._ Prince Doran bowed his head. “Lady Nymella was arranging passage from Sunspear when last I saw her.”

Prince Doran turned to Viserys and bowed. “I was afraid of what would happen if you were alone with the rebels, so I raced ahead of all my bannermen. I apologize for the delay, and for the weakness of my entourage.” Ser Willem frowned. “How many men did you bring?” Prince Doran grimaced. “The half dozen you saw, and my squire.”

“But Dorne is rising for me?” Viserys’s voice came out more afraid than he would have liked. _I am the King. I must be stronger than this._ Prince Doran’s face softened. “There are two main Dornish contingents. Lord Hightower and his sons have marched from Oldtown, and are gathering what remains of your brothers forces. He sent a raven to Sunspear. Tremond, bring the letter.” There was movement from the edge of the door, and Viserys thought he saw a flash of dark hair. Prince Doran chuckled.

“Ten and three, the heir to Salt Shore, and with all the pride that comes with it. He would have joined this meeting if I allowed it.” Prince Doran’s words were reproachful, but his tone was fond. Ser Willem smiled, then looked back at the map. “You said two Dornish contingents?”

Prince Doran pointed at the map again, this time to the mountains in the west. “Indeed. My brother was fond of our sister, and he would have been right beside me with his sellswords had Ellaria not told him she would help him convince Lord Uller to march.” Seeing Viserys’s scowl, he continued. “His brother Uthor and his cousins Ser Deziel and Ser Edric were slain at the Trident. I also sent Oberyn with some of my retainers to raise all the lords of western Dorne. Uller, Qorgyle, Dayne of Starfall, Dayne of High Hermitage, Manwoody, they are all joining my brother to come to this council and shout for King Viserys.” Ser Willem spoke up again.

“I had heard that Prince Oberyn had led his own sellsword company. Did they come with him.” Prince Doran sighed. “One hundred men came with him to Dorne. By the end of the first day, they had mugged three men and knifed another. I had to hang two of the men from the Winding Walls.” Ser Willem grimaced at this.

“What of Lord Tyrell?” Viserys asked, pointing at the map. “He won the Battle of Ashford, and is laying siege to Storm’s End. Will he come here?” Prince Doran looked thoughtful. “I know not, Your Grace. Ser Darry?” Ser Willem pondered for a minute.

“The rebels must have Lord Baratheon. I saw much of their army march for Storm’s End, though I know not who commands. I would guess that it is either Lord Arryn or Lord Stark, as Lord Baratheon was killed at the Trident, and Lord Tully took another wound there.”

“Another?” Tremond had returned, and was plainly curious. Lord Doran sighed indulgently. “Lord Tully was wounded at the Battle of the Bells. But if you mean to join the meeting, you ought to introduce yourself to the King. Your Grace, this is my squire, Tremond Gargalen, heir to Salt Shore.”

“He’s not the King until the Great Council.” Prince Doran pinched the bridge of his nose, Ser Willem scowled, and Viserys raged. “I am the the King, and all who deny that are traitors! I’ll hang the rebels, and all their bannermen! I AM THE KING!” Ser Willem picked him up, and Viserys began to hit him. “I am the Dragon! Unhand me, I _command_ you!” Ser Willem looked at Prince Doran apologetically.

“His Grace has had a rough month. Do you have rooms for him?” This made Viserys madder, and he attempted to bite Ser Willem’s shoulder, but his jerkin was too thick. Prince Doran nodded. “The first room on the left. I can send some of my men to hold the door, if it would help.”

“Do not! I am the King! I command it!” Father had said worse when raging, and everyone had listened to him, even Rhaegar. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? This made his fury worse. Ser Willem carried him out of the room as Viserys continued to yell. “I will not have it! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!” Tremond was snickering, and Viserys threw one of his boots at him. He missed, which made Tremond laugh more. Prince Doran shot Tremond a dark look, and then the door was closed and Viserys could see no more.

Ser Willem carried him down the hall and set him on the bed in what had been Prince Doran’s room. “Viserys, you must control your temper. You will not win lords to your side this way.” Though Ser Willem looked sad, Viserys continued to rage. “I am the King! You will not hold me in here! I am not a child! _I am the King!_ ”

Ser Willem closed the door, and Viserys was left alone in the dark with his rage.


End file.
